(Fe)
by Tsume Yuki
Summary: The Ten Rings prove too dangerous to be left alone, and so the Winter Soldier is dispatched and acquire another asset. The assassinations would have gone rather well too, were it not for the fact Toni Stark was making her grand exit that day. In which Toni returns from her kidnapping with metal in her chest and an equally metal-armed bodyguard. (Female Tony Stark)
1. Chapter 1

**(Fe)**

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 **Chapter 1**

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 _"Wha- what are you doing out here in the desert?"_

 _A blank stare, the lights don't even seem to be on, never-mind if there's anybody at home._

 _Dull eyes, grey storm over sea blue. Utterly empty._

 _"Well come on, us 'stranded in the desert losers' need to stick together."_

 _Still blank._

 _"And hey, you can always carry me when I inevitably drop from sun-stroke."_

 _It's a tease. For her at least._

 _"Understood."_

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* * *

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"Toni! Oh thank god, thank god. Toni."

Near unconscious, Antonia Carter 'Toni' Stark peers blearily up at the man approaching her, only half aware of the tight grip upon her thighs. There's something wrong with one hand, something wrong with one of the shoulders.

Oh yeah, the left hand side is made of metal.

She wonders how deep it goes, wonders what the engineering is like.

(She could do better. She can always do better)

Metal Arm takes a swift step back, even though he has to be as dehydrated, as tired and itchy and burnt as she is.

But Toni recognises that voice, recognises that tone and the way her name is said.

"Rhodey," she near sobs into Metal Arm's shoulder, reaching with one hand (the one of the arm not broken on impact) towards the source.

There's not much else of that day she recalls.

.

But when she wakes up on the aircraft, Metal Arm is still there, her knight in shining prosthetic, sword shield against the terrifying might that is the sun.

She's reaching for him before it even registers, patting the knee of his dirty, blood stained pants.

"I'm keeping you."

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Toni Stark leaves Afghanistan with an electromagnet in her chest and a companion (Bodyguard? Saviour? Dependant?) by her side.

Rhodey has insisted upon a cot for her, a rickety, unreasonably loud cot that's more steel skeleton and lump mattress than any real kind of comfortable surface.

She makes a mental note to come up with a better design. It won't be difficult at all, they've set the bar so low she could just step across it.

Lips wrapped around the neck of a bottle, she slowly sips at her water, unwilling to shock her system with a sudden influx of all that glorious H2O. It's not the hasty, parched chugs her instincts scream for, but Toni's become rather adapted at controlling her impulses recently.

Holding her tongue to avoid getting it ripped out in that cave, subduing the urge to build a simple handgun to take out the latest bastard that hit her.

It'd all been a lesson in patience, in restraint.

But she's Toni Motherfucking Stark.

Chances of the lesson sticking are low.

No lower than the bar this cot has set though.

Rhodey's up front, barking orders and sending her worrying glances but Toni just needs her space right now.

Drawing in a long breath (there's no sand-filled air in the plane, the filtration system has cleared it all out and Toni feels purer with ever inhale), the last Stark alive turns her gaze to the semi-familiar figure.

She'd come to after landing the suit, not quite sure how long she'd been out. It might have been a few seconds, maybe a few minutes. One or the other.

What she does know is that she'd come around with a broken wrist, several other not-so-minor injuries and a terrifying figure looming over her.

At first she'd panicked (terrorist, it had to be a terrorist, one of the Ten Rings) before she'd finally taken note of the dark, dark clothes.

They hadn't worn black; black absorbed heat, black stood out, black got dirty. They had a million reasons to not wear black.

But he didn't, not ones he cared about, anyway.

Toni doesn't remember much, doesn't remember when he'd snuck up on her.

But she does remember seeing the blood around his head, soaking into his dark hair, smeared around the lens of those curved goggles, disappearing beneath the mask. He'd been injured in her escape (Why was he even there? Someone sent to recover her? Someone sent to help her? Someone sent to kidnap her for an even worse group?) that much is obvious.

It hadn't registered fully at the time, like a half finished download, interrupted at the midpoint and never resumed.

But those eyes had been empty.

The conversation they'd shared (as one sided as it'd been) is a blurry thing in her mind, a pixilated image with a resolution so low it offends every last one of her electrical-engineering sensibilities.

"Okay tall, dark and handsome- wait, are you handsome under that mask? Please let it be so. I mean, I'm not usually one for the whole knight in shining armour gig, or black tactic gear as it is, but depending on how pretty you are, I think we can make this work."

Her throat burns. Too many words at once, too much strain and tall'n'dark doesn't so much as twitch.

But Toni's quite certain those eyes are focused on her, she can feel the weight of them. Heavier than metal-plated armour. Lighter than the burden of guilt she bares.

"Come on, take off the mask, I gotta know what I'm working with here when I introduce you to the public."

She's trying not to focus too much on the arm.

But it's silver and even in the low lighting, it's gleaming, calling her.

A metal prosthetic. Metal alloy? Must be. Is there any connection to his nerves? Can he feel any form of touch? How advance is it, what are its capabilities?

She's itching to figure it all out, but even Toni knows prodding at a dude's prosthetic without permission is rude and potentially traumatising.

She only needs to consider the possibility of someone messing with her reactor and she knows, knows deep in her bones she'll be half feral, that she'll attack. Or drop from a panic attack.

So, yeah.

She's gonna avoid that.

Ever so slowly, tall'n'dark reaches up, removing the goggles and the mask.

There's pressure indents, temporary lines in his skin that'll disperse as the blood flow regulates and Toni gives a lazy smile.

"Oh yeah. Now that's a face we can work with."

That thought presents the issue of cameras, of paparazzi and identity as she doesn't have a clue who this guy is. Considering he looks as traumatised as she feels, then it'll probably be best to put off the introduction to the flashy side of her life.

Hell, for all she knows, this guy could have been another of the Ten Rings' prisoners, another hostage/victim. (Though Toni's pretty sure they'd have ripped off the shiny arm if that were the case) he could have suffered like her.

The press is unavoidable for her.

But not for this dude.

Hey, she'll break him into her life slowly. After all, she did decide to keep him and Tall, Dark and Handsome (oh boy does he fit that bill well enough to deserve capitalisation) hadn't exactly argued.

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In the very least, Toni can pay for the guy's therapy bills; that total lack of emotion seems to indicate he needs it.

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* * *

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The Asset has never woken in the desert before.

The Asset has never woken to a lack of handlers before.

(At least, that's as much as his hole ridden brain can recall)

It takes a moment, footsteps in the sand, a trail that'll be erased by the wind, to realise there's something to the east.

(He's never become operational with a wound before, never become operational while not at full capacity)

He find the woman there, in the wreckage.

It looks like the kind of accident he can almost remember setting up. Only she's still alive.

.

Then the order is given and he once again has purpose.

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* * *

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James 'Rhodey' Rhodes is worried.

When they found Toni (not an 'if', it'd never been an 'if' for him) the one thing he'd not considered was someone having beaten them to the punch.

He'd not expected to find a man in dark tactical gear carrying her piggyback throughout the desert.

Even though he'd been showcasing textbook signs of dehydration, the man had still continued to march grimly on with no intention of stopping. Perhaps he wouldn't have stopped until his body failed him.

But there hadn't been a need for that. Rhodey had seen to it the copter landed as quickly as possible; he had ignored the way the stranger had reached for a gun until Toni started with the grabby hands.

Now he's trying his best to ignore the hellishly intimidating man that's perched on a chair by Toni's cot. They'd offered him a cot too, but the look that'd been thrown to them could have been nothing other than a very stern no. And that's putting it mildly.

But he's hanging over Toni like the biggest, meanest attack dog in the whole copter. He's making them nervous, he's making Rhodey nervous. Because he can't read this guy.

There's no tells, nothing but textbook military moulded into something more, a useable blade purposefully sharpened until it's deadly. Not the kind of knife you'd find in a kitchen, the kind of knife that has one purpose and one purpose alone.

It's not a friendly one.

Rhodey doesn't have a clue where Toni picked him up from, but by god is he hoping whatever secret service branch that sent him to collect Toni will be waiting to retrieve him when they land.

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* * *

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Sipping at her bottle of water again, Toni pauses for a moment, swinging her gaze around to look at the guy.

Is that arm just encased in metal, or is a full out prosthetic? Rhodey's got his money in the later, but it's also making him nervous. Because that's more advanced than he's seen his fellow servicemen getting.

This guy... he's got no idea how long he's known Toni, if they've suffered together, if something has happened, if there's a bond between them forged in a trial by fire.

But he does know that this guy is determinedly watching over Toni.

The one time Johnson tried speaking to him, he'd not even acknowledged the question. They've been offered no name, no details or credentials and every agency Rhodey's gotten in contact with have denied the ability to send an agent after Toni Stark. He has to sit, gritting his teeth as more and more suits declare rescuing his best friend (the army's top weapons contractor) a waste of resources. A strain of resources.

He can still hear the undertone.

' _She's probably dead by now_ '.

And dead bodies are no use to America.

Well, aren't they going to be in for a surprise when they get back?

"Rhodey?"

Snapping to attention, Rhodey's eyes find Toni's.

Her new shadow is chugging the other half of her water bottle; it's an uncomfortable realisation to know he's not trusted their water until Toni drank from it. The kind of restraint that's take, refusing water when dehydrated... oh, he's been trained alright.

"I need low-key transport to the house, don't tell anyone I'm back yet."

The unsaid 'something's fishy' hangs heavy in the air and Toni side-eyes her tag-a-long. As if he's the last piece to a puzzle she never knew she had.

That or a piece from another puzzle altogether.

"After that, I've got a press conference. But first, I need to figure out what to do with Handsome here."

She grins, cocking her head back to look the man in the eyes but it's not her old smile. It's something hollow, as if Toni's innards have been carved out and replaced with something else. Something that the press won't recognise; after all, they've only ever cared for Toni's outer casing, not the gooey centre.

"What do you say, Handsome? Let me take you home?"

Eyebrows wiggle and Rhodey knows there's something wrong when the other guy doesn't so much as register Toni's innuendo, just gives a quick jolt of a nod so sharp he almost misses it.

Toni doesn't.

"I'm taking that as a yes."

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* * *

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"You should really see Pepper, Boss."

"Not right now, Happy. Got more important things on my plate."

Happy side-eyes Handsome as if he's the cause of all this, which, yeah, he got her brain spinning on the copter, otherwise she'd probably be meeting Pep and Obi right now.

But Handsome's presence had brought questions (where'd he come from? Who sent him? Who is he and whose behalf is he here on?) and that'd brought her mind back to something very important.

How did the terrorists know the route the army vehicles were using? How had they known she was there? Which car she was in? All in all, it can be summed up with one very simple conclusion.

Someone sold her out.

Someone in the know had sold her out.

And that's... that's fucking unacceptable.

So under the pretence of settling Handsome in, she's gonna get some space to plan her next few steps. Because living by the ear nearly got her killed once already.

"Want me to call Obadiah?"

"Nope. Let's leave it a surprise."

Toni waves her good friend off, slipping into the back of the car before she turns expecting eyes on Handsome. God, she needs to get a name for him, quick. But the one-time Rhodey had asked, he'd just got a dead-eyed murder stare.

The kind of bad-boy persona that'd have sent her stomach burning with interest a year ago, but now... well, it's not really a persona, is it? That's how Handsome is, that's for sure. Were it an act, well they've been in each other's general vicinity for two days solid now. He'd have to have cracked by now.

But there's no micro-tells, just the occasional furrowing of confused brows, most predominantly when there's a request for his name.

"Boss, you've got appointments with the CIA, with-"

"I know, Happy. I know they all wanna speak to me. But I just need to get home right now."

She needs to hear Jarvis' voice, needs to see U and Dum-e and Butterfingers. Needs to see the brightly lit bedroom and the clean, sand free workshop. Right now, Toni just needs to know that she's home, that it's not a terrible dream and she's gonna wake up back in that cave.

Besides, it's not like she could have dreamed Handsome up.

Well, okay, that's not her being totally truthful. She could have undoubtedly dreamed Handsome up, borrowed that face from Bucky Barnes himself and slapped some rugged wartime expression on it while lengthening the hair. Hell, she could have even come up with that arm (she could do better than that, the arm is going to be her second project, second behind her new insurance)... but the attitude.

No, if Toni was gonna go to the effort of dreaming up some extraordinary man to fulfil her every dirty fantasy, then she'd damn well give him a personality, give him a genuine interest in her besides those business-like, bitterly cold eyes.

The bottom line is, she doesn't understand this stranger.

But just because she doesn't understand him, (the genuine confusion when asked for his name, the utterly foreign look he'd given the airplane food, the way he'd carried her through the desert for potentially hours on end) doesn't mean she cannot trust him.

Right now, she has far too few people she can trust. While she'll be keeping and eye on Handsome, he's got more of her trust than anyone else in her social circle right now.

In fact, one of the first things she plans on doing is finding out just who this guy is, because he certainly doesn't seem to know.

Amnesia maybe? But then why had he been in the Afghan desert? Why had he been there at just the right moment to sweep her up of that sand dune? Her knight in robotic armour.

Toni snorts, ignoring Happy's concerned glance, because if either of them were the knight in metal casing, it probably wasn't Handsome.

Hell, maybe he'll end up the damsel soon and she'll be able to rescue him. Though there'll be no white horses because urgh, how cliché.

"Alright, Handsome. What's your poison? I'm sure I'll have it back at my place, but it's always nice to know. Hey, that's what we should do, a getting to know you kind of ice-breaker, like those shitty exercises you get at company meet n' greets only better, because it's gonna be me and you."

Toni grins, waggling her eyebrows at her company who just stares blankly back. Oh, it is so on. She's gonna break that mask. Happy' concerned eyes be damned, she's not side-lining her own issues in favour of playing with her (literal) shiny new toy. She's not.

"I don't use poison," Handsome says, flicking a glance to her from the corner of his eyes that could almost be considered quizzical. Huzzah, some success on the emotion front.

"I was talking alcohol, but okay. Probably not good for us to crack into the good stuff this early on. Pretty sure the good ol' army doc said I wasn't supposed to go near the booze and it'll just be sad letting you drink if I can't join the party. So, hey, we'll find something else to do. You know, I really fancy a cheeseburger right now. A really greasy, all-American cheeseburger. Happy! We need cheeseburgers. Then take me home."

Handsome's still eyeing her, not quite ice blue but not storm grey either. Just as harsh in his study of her though.

"You sure, Boss?"

"Never been surer of anything in my life. I'm feeling patriotic, Happy. Let's go get some of that iconic American grub."

.

Toni walks back into her house with metal in her chest and grease on her fingers.

Chewing heartily on her third burger (she's gonna regret that, she knows it, can already feel her stomach rolling but she wanted some good ol' American fast food, god damn it), she strides into the mansion.

The lights come to life around her and she waits, just basking in the presence of her beloved Artificial Intelligence, soaking up the knowledge that JARVIS is here and all his vast attention is unquestioningly focused on on her. She doesn't doubt he's known she was back since the very moment the US Army got to her. Doesn't doubt he has been tracking her since she took in her first breath of American air, stepped out on American soil. Her baby boy has been following her every move and now, no doubt just like her, he's simply taking in the moment.

Her triumphant return, the queen back in the castle, a god returning to her playground. (Only, what could possibly make a god tremble, could have their hands shaking with cold sweat sliding down their spine at the thought of a cave, of a car battery being pushed into their hands and-)

Shaking her head, Toni clicks her fingers towards the window, watching it light up with the most important updates, all the little notices full of information, the things she's missed in her... unplanned absence.

Above her, JARVIS rattles out the current temperature, the three most important things she's missed, followed by a smooth welcome home. It goes unsaid just how much she has been missed by himself and the bots, how worried he was (because he's her artificial intelligence, damn it, of course he's gonna be capable of emotions like that) and just how pleased he is to see her glorious self once again within these hallowed halls. Well, maybe a bit of an overstatement there, there's no halls here but there could be, Toni has the money for it, after all.

"Well it's good to be back, J. Hey, can you set me a room up, I've got a guest. Then we're gonna put you through your paces because I need to know who I'm dealing with here."

Swinging her head around, Toni grins at Handsome, revelling in the sudden sense of control, in once again being within her home, within her element. She's in complete control here, within a sense. JARVIS protects her, looks after her, puts her wellbeing first. And right now, after months of hell, that's exactly what she needs.

That, and to start working on her new insurance, to make sure this could never happen again. Another suit, slicker, stronger, superior in every way to the one she'd clobbered together in that cave. Then... then Stark Industries make no more weapons. Weapons production will be shut down. No arguments, no bending her neck to others. That is how it's gonna go. And the board will just have to accept it. She still owns the company, it's still her name on the side of the building. They can just suck it up.

"Come on in, Handsome, I promise the Malibu sun will bite more than JARVIS. J, run a facial recognition scan for me."

Handsome dithers, but it's so short, so small a hesitation that she almost misses it. She still registers the little tell though, even as her head spins with all that needs to be done. Get Handsome an identity, a solid set of papers that she can shove in the face of anyone who tries to get rid of him for 'entering the country illegally'. Please, if they looked at their history, if they all did, they'd realise that such words are more than a little hypocritical.

Not the topic she wants to get into though, there's no time for that and she's suppose to be an American icon, being a Stark an' all. Which means not bringing up historical blunders.

Rolling her eyes, Toni polishes off the last of her burger, cocking her hips and staring at Handsome as he warily assesses her home.

Who knows, maybe he has shit to be off doing. Can't be all that important though, not if he so easily followed after her.

Maybe someone sent to spy on her? To steal her tech? But they why send him on what surely amounts to a suicide mission, coming to rescue her from the Ten Rings?

It's not adding up, the equation is missing a key component (key components?) and she doesn't have all the data.

Which means research, first and foremost. Toni is, after all, a scientist. There's so many avenues to take in order to compile her data too, not just sitting back to observe. She can run some tests of the sly, look for patterns in the behaviour he exhibits and link it up to outside sources, can send JARVIS on a researching spree.

Handsome has to have come from somewhere, after all.

People just don't appear from nowhere, don't just pop out of the snow like daisies.

God, she's itching to watch Mulan again now. A young woman triumphing over a savage group of men, yeah, that's the kind of therapy she needs right now.

"Come on then, Handsome, no need to stand at parade rest or anything."

It's only as she says it that Toni realises just how on the mark she is. Well, it's not really parade rest, more like some kind of bastardised version or something. He's been trained, it's blatantly obvious. Right, as if she'd had any real doubts before.

"Miss, I have a near definite match on... your guest."

"Oh? Why the hesitation, J?" Toni questions, aching to take the steps two at a time as she had once done, but now she's no longer as confident in her leg strength and balance.

The last thing she needs is Obi and Pepper visiting, only to find her in the country, but dead at the bottom of her staircase.

"Facial recognition matches up to one Sargent James Barnes, legally assumed dead during World War Two."

Toni skids to a halt, staring at the image JARVIS brings up on her workshop window before she twists around to look back at Handsome.

Oh yeah, she can see it, the jawline and the nose and that sinful mouth. She lets out a long, low whistle, inspecting the image again.

The eyes are wrong though.

Bucky Barnes has naught bedroom eyes, a gaze that promises the best night of her life with his head buried between her thighs.

Handsome's blank icy blues just make her feel like an object. And not even in the 'men are objectifying me' kind of way.

More like a gun to be taken apart and put back together again, useful and necessary to keep working. It's not a look she's ever gotten before and it's making her ill at ease.

"Huh. So, what're we looking at? Long lost descendant? Working clone? Time-traveller? Though I think I will genuinely cry if someone's beat me to inventing time-travel."

Glancing hopefully towards Handsome, Toni finds he's not even looking at her, not truly.

His face may be turned her way, but he's staring at the picture of Sargent Barnes with a look of deep concentration on his brow.

Right, she can deal with this.

Or rather, JARVIS can deal with this, start plucking some digital strings because she has a suit to build.

"Come on, Barnes Jr. let me show you wonderland, then we'll see if I can do something about that arm of yours."

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* * *

 **Righty-oh, so this is what I'm working on while on the train while the sun is dawning and I'm heading to uni with sleep in my eyes. It's all been wrote on my i-pod so far, and that's a trend that'll probably continue. For anyone that's curious, my day starts at 5:45 and I'm not going to sleep until about 10:30/11:00-ish. So yeah, I don't wanna make it seem like an excuse for mistakes, but in essence, that's what it is.**

 **Anyway, on the story, Toni's born much later than Canon Tony, just because I want a young, female Toni absolutely bossing a male dominated industry.**

 **Tsume  
** **xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**(Fe)**

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 **Chapter 2**

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There had been a time in Toni's life, back when she'd been five and it'd been Antonia (not the babyish Annie, not the grown Toni), and she'd loved Captain America.

Then Howard had told her how she'd never live up to dear old Cap, how she'd never be good enough, how that was his greatest creation.

She tore down all the Captain America memorabilia that night.

(Never, not even in her dying days, will she admit to revisiting the Howling Commandos to crush hopelessly on Bucky Barnes. She was fourteen and stupid, it doesn't count.)

Only, now that she's faced with that killer jawline, those frosted blues, the goddamn broad as fuck shoulders, it almost feels like she's stumbled back into that time of impossible crushes, curious exploratory fingers and an overactive imagination fixated on the Brooklyn accent.

Hell, she's not even sure if this is actually Bucky Barnes. It can't possibly be... only, Toni's read her Father's old notes on the HYDRA tech from back in his heydays, read about all the science developments that were kept close to the chest and the ones that were implied in the sub-context and now when she looks at Handsome... she wonders.

"Miss, I honestly believe you should contact Mr Stane, or perhaps Miss Potts-"

"Zip it, J. Obi and Peps've probably for themselves tied up over me, or so I like to think; one more day isn't gonna hurt." One more knot won't hurt.

Besides, she needs to set Handsome up wit some credentials, FBI Proof credentials. And see if she can source some kind of cover for the sweet arm he's lugging about. God, she can't wait to sink her teeth into that technology (so to speak), can't wait to rip it apart and make a better one. Sleeker, more efficient; superior in every which way it could possibly be.

Hell, Toni's not got much of an idea on how to thank the guy who's probably saved her life (or at least, saved her from a lengthy stay in the army's medical wing) other than this. True she could always throw money at Tall, Dark and Handsome, but she gets the feeling he wouldn't know what the hell to do with it all.

Guy doesn't even know his own name. It's not exactly like he'll have a bank account she can start pouring funds into. Speaking of which-

"J, set up an account in the name of James... Alloy." Alloy'll do for a last name; that arm has to be an alloy but she's not sure what particular breed. Not yet anyway. She'll figure it out.

Regardless, James Alloy; good temporary name. James of course because, hello, this might be Bucky motherfucking Barnes. Low possibility or not, the chance is there. It is only through sheer willpower (the kind of willpower that keeps tongues still as water surges and lungs scream for air, that clenches teeth when hands roam before a tight voice reminds the fingers that they don't want her suicidal) that Toni doesn't squirm in her seat.

Speaking of which; Toni twists at the hips to stare at her latest... project.

The newly dubbed James Alloy, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, her knight in shining prosthetic, had taken one step into the lab and retreated to the darkest corner it possesses. He's yet to venture out. Every so often, his eyes will scan the room, searching for... well, something.

Toni's got no idea what he's looking for, but she's a'okay with his eye-candy status. What she's not so cool with is the eyes. It's not quite panic, but it sure as hell ain't the dead blues she's become sort of almost accustomed to. There's emotion in there and it certainly ain't the good kind.

"You know, I think I quite like the stubble look on you, less clean-cut Bucky Barnes and much more rugged dirty desert dweller, say, what were you doing in the desert anyway?" Handsome (James, it's James for now, they'd- well, she couldn't wait around until he remembered his name, Toni's found important people tend to frown when you introduce someone on a descriptive nickname only) gives the same reaction as all the other ones he's offered up so far; blankness.

Blankety blank blankness.

It's a good thing he's pretty.

Still, fingers working the blowtorch, Toni rambles on, "I mean, you certainly weren't dressed for desert work. I should know, been 'round the army long enough, and that uniform doesn't showcase shoulders, not like the slick leather get-up you'd been decked out in." It was the first thing they'd done on getting here; changed clothes and showered. Toni'd been so relieved to peel all that nasty off her, to scrub her skin raw (all but her chest, her chest that has that- that thing inside it; she needs to make a better one of that, has to, must make it her own, it's why there's a blowtorch in her hand and alloys before her) that she'd not even considered inviting Handsome to shower with her.

Though really, it doesn't seem like he'll be getting the hints she's throwing anytime soon.

For all that he looks like sex-on-legs (and really, that arm alone is enough to get her going, engines revving, va-va-vaoom), he's oblivious to the sexual intent that rolls off her words in tsunami-like waves.

Not that it matters. Toni could pick up any guy she wanted, any other guy would respond with a smile (sleazy, charming, quite unable to believe their luck, or anywhere between the three), any other guy...

Any other guy would flip if they saw her post-night terrors. Hell, even mid-night terror would freak 'em all out.

Handsome hadn't even batted an eye.

Plus, the very idea makes her skin crawl.

(She hasn't got trust issues, she hasn't. It's just that Handsome's saved her a hospital stay and it's not just a little girl thing, developing a crush on a guy who helps you. She hasn't got trust issues. She hasn't.)

"I don't know." Don't know- oh right, the uniform.

"You don't know it highlights your shoulders? Because let me tell you, it does. I could ride those and still have room for a friend." Not even a sharp inhale at the implication of being between her thighs, or the hint of a potential threesome.

Then it clicks; they're having two different conversations.

"Whoa, hang on, wait. You mean you don't know why you were in the desert?! For real?"

Toni hisses as her fingers slide a little too close to the hot metal in her excitement, but her eyes are all on Handsome. Handsome who watches her clever fingers work with cautious eyes.

"Well shit. J, what have you got for me on that, baby boy?"

.

It's blurry photos, the kind of quality that'd have a tinfoil-hatted nutcase raving he'd known Big Foot was out there all along. Yes, the photo quality is that bad, all grain and fuzz and none of the sharp crisp lines that JARVIS usually offers her.

But it's also the only set of photos her baby boy has been able to find on Handsome.

A silver arm, red star (though it's colourless, a dark tone in these black and white photos) coupled with those familiar bug goggle and muzzle-like mask?

Yeah, it's her guy. It's Handsome, unquestionably Handsome, buried deep in the files of dear old Pop's little side project. Toni doesn't want to touch that with a five foot stick. Hell to the no. She does not need to go poking around in SHIELD any further. Knowing her guy is an assassin though... he's been operating as an assassin for more years than he looks to have been alive. And suddenly that Bucky Barnes theory sprints into first place. Huh.

"Sooo, assassin work, that's, that's a little less cool than saving damsels from deserts, Terminator."

There's something wrong with Handsome. And oh boy, does she mean wrong. There's scrunching confused brows at 'assassin' (not the tenseness of 'I've been found out', but genuine hazy 'I don't understand' emotion) yet it's the puzzlement at 'terminator' that trips Toni up.

What she needs to do is look at the facts right now. Think logically. She's a Stark, it's what she's good at. Because when Pepper or Obadiah come knocking, when they listen to her rambles enough to realise what she's housing, Toni knows she'll need a damn good explanation on why she's keeping Murderbot McGhost-Story in her household. One that's stronger than 'pretty blues, Pepper, pretty blues!'.

Fact number one: Handsome carried her across a desert, to his own detriment.

Inference: he could have done her harm, but didn't. Could have left her to die, but didn't.

Conclusion: Handsome has no personal intent to harm her.

Fact number two: Handsome can't even remember his own name.

Inference: amnesia; from blunt force trauma, medical condition, or something more sinister.

Conclusion: Handsome has nowhere to go and no idea what he's doing.

Fact number three: Handsome's been running the gauntlet for longer than Toni's been alive.

Inference: there's some way to halt or slow the ageing progress, given that Handsome's not exactly been seen out and about much, it's probably something that requires he remain still. Entrapped.

Conclusion: most likely cyrofreeze, as absurd as that technology being around for years (decades) sounds.

Facts four and five: Handsome is a facial recognition match to Bucky Barnes. Bucky Barnes was declared legally dead but remains were never recovered.

Inference: Bucky Barnes may have survived and... and what, because an assassin? A politicians' professional boogeyman?

Conclusion: ...requires more hard evidence.

Further testing... necessary, but caution advisable... probably best not to mention the whole 'Winter Solider' ghost stories mess that JARVIS dug up until she's got some way of defending herself (She's played it too close to the line with one mention of assassin's work already).

So, suit first. But a new suit needs a new power source, a better power source, hence, a better arc reactor. Out with the old, in with the new.

Well, out with everything but the potentially vintage hottie she's got filling her lab's corner with hulking broad shoulders and haunting blue eyes. Eye candy. Yum.

Oh so dangerous; oh so delicious.

Working the last of the metal into place, Toni blows quick and hard on the design. It does nothing for the work, but the satisfaction of knowing its complete nestled low in her stomach like a warm ache. Perfect.

"Right, so don't freak out, but you know if I suddenly kneel over, shove this thing in my chest, got it?"

Handsome's confusion is more evident than ever. He still nods in agreement which, you know, is good enough for her.

What isn't good is the momentary pause, the slight tremors to her hand when she hovered over the obsolete battery in her chest. The phantom pain of her ribcage being split open, of metal replacing it all... fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

No, unacceptable. She might not have asked for it, but the electromagnet is part of her now. Like hell she's ever gonna cringe away from something that's a part of her. She's Toni Stark, the Stark of Stark industries. Whatever was done to her in that cave, she's gonna make it her own. She'll strip clear every part, replace it with her own design, her own creation, until they've got no god damn hold on her anymore. Until it's just her, until there's no marks left but her own.

"In your chest."

Toni jumps.

"Christ on a circuit!"

Recoiling away from the sudden invasion of her personal space, Toni forces her best glare out to cover sudden rapid breaths and a thumping heartbeat.

"You need some bells, Roboman." Lots of bells, bells gallor. Deck the Handsome in bells entirely, fa-la-la-la-la and all of that. Hell, that was way too quiet, she'd not even noticed him move from his little corner. Her heart's under enough pressure already, she doesn't need silent n' stealthy keeping that up.

Twisting to get a better look at Handsome, Toni presents the new arc reactor to her only company, grinning all the while.

"Well I don't like to brag," lie, "but this is probably the best invention of the year." Decade, maybe. Until she gets the suit going, but even then, this will have more applications that just powering the Mark II. "It's also going to keep me alive," Toni underlines, meeting Handsome's gaze as she finally finds the willpower to clamp on hand down on the obsolete model.

Ice chips cut deep against her stare before Handsome flicks a quick glance at the very thing soon to keep her alive.

"You need that in your chest. Forever." It's... it's not posed as a question, but Toni nods anyway.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Handsome nods, that strong jawline (so alike the one she's spent teenaged days fantasising about) tense.

It feels like something significant just happened, but for all her genius, Toni cannot even begin to guess what that was.

.

* * *

.

The Asset has no idea what the... thing is. All he knows is that it is of upmost importance. That the girl (Toni) will die without it.

' _Right, so don't freak out, but you know if I suddenly kneel over, shove this thing in my chest, got it?'_

The mission parameters have been adjusted, clarified.

' _Well come on, us 'stranded in the desert losers' need to stick together'_.

Stick (define 'stick'; 1. push a sharp or pointed object into or through... incompatible. 2. Insert,thrust or push... incompatible. 3. adhere or cling to something... compatible, correct definition) with the woman (desert loser; Toni). Ensure the thing (' _probably the best invention of the year_ ') remains in her chest.

Protective detail... not the Asset's usual modus operandi, but not outside of his skill set.

There's no handler. Is the woman(Toni) the handler?

(She's not like the others)

He waits, watching with sharp eyes as she releases the device (obsolete, inefficient, the beta model), clearing out gunk from within the cavity. She struggles to replace the defunct model. She does not request help so the Asset waits, watches. Fingers tremble, still curled around the upgrade, yet she slots the creation into the chamber. Thorax expands, a harsh, hard exhale follows.

The woman(Toni) appears capable. Knowledgable with metalwork too. A potential mechanic for the arm; skill evident.

"Well, that was shit." A huffed breath (she makes no move to hide her emotions, does not wear a mask as the other handlers did). His brain, his memories... they're insufficient evidence. Maybe the handlers did showcase emotion. Maybe they made him forget.

The Asset must be operational. Must be capable of completing the mission.

The Asset does not need to think.

To think is to be. The Asset is unsure how 'to be'.

"Hey, Handsome. Want a nightlight?"

The device is thrown once, twice, thrice, into the air, no more than a foot above her hand and it seems a natural thing. As if that hadn't just been the product keeping her alive, keeping her functioning. Outdated, outmoded and outmatched by it's better alternative.

There are other Winter Soldiers, the Asset recalls. Now he has his mission, will they be summoned into service instead?

"Yes." The confirmation escapes his mouth before the certainty truly settled into his bones. The device keeps the woman(Toni) alive. Should the present model fail, so too shall the Asset's mission. A back-up is necessary. The woman(Toni)'s well-being comes first.

Her dark eyes are startled, focused upon him from the (unexpected) answer and the Asset waits, still and steady.

Catching the 'nightlight' is no hardship and he places it upon the desk. It is not his business to look upon it, just another component of the mission; his eyes find it anyway. The bright light, a white so fine it borders upon blue, tickles at the back of his mind. Why does this seem familiar?

"Not sure why you'd wanna keep that piece of junk, but whatever helps you sleep at night, Baby Blues. Unless you'd like some company?" Full brows wiggle at him, a grin that's even more familiar than the blue light. All it provides is a sensation of familiarity, nothing more. It still has the corners of his mouth twitching up and that in itself is the most unfamiliar thing of all. He's used to waking up in different places, to difference circumstance, different handlers.

Never before has he been anything less than fully operational. Never before has he had to search for the handler. Never before have the handlers asked after a name.

Watching the woman(Toni) watch him, the Asset feels the strange form of his lips return to a neutral rest.

Certainly never before has there been a handler to name him.

(James Alloy. Alloy is... strange. Even stranger is that James feels... not quite right, but not far from wrong either).

"Ah ha! So you do smile, it's not always terrifying shadow scowls and bold in blank. You're pretty, you know that, Handsome? J, isn't he pretty."

J (artificial intelligence, she'd explained) sighs, more humane a sound than the Asset could manage, produced from speakers the Asset cannot locate.

"Aesthetically, Mr Alloy would qualify as pleasing, especially given Miss' preference for 'tall, Dark and handsome'."

"M-my preference? What the hell, J? You selling me out already?"

The words stir tension within the Asset (betrayal already?) but the tone halts any hasty movements. It's light, carefree... teasing. That's the word (the tone is familiar but he cannot recall any of the prior handlers exhibiting such a lilt) though the Asset is unsure how it springs so easily to mind. Observing the woman(Toni) who he now protects, the Asset takes stock of what he has to work with.

Current location had been proclaimed 'the lab' upon entry.

Defensibility: inadequate; glass wall offers no protection or cover and muffles sound produced in the corridor/stairwell. Multitude of vintage cars offer reasonable cover while under attack, but positioning (lined-up along the far wall) results in a half-hearted 'kill-zone' whenever the woman(Toni) is within the centre of the room. Which, evidenced from the location of equipment and desks, is often.

Armaments: acceptable; far from lacking, though the Asset may be forced to resort to creative measures. Regardless, the woman(Toni)'s work-tools alone would be capable of significant damage.

The Woman (Toni): dangerous; evident genius level intellect, physical threat low. Overall potential threat level: (The Asset recalls a flash of metal armour falling from the sky, an explosion in the distance) significant. Weaknesses: the device (to remain in chest cavity at all costs), physical body (muscle mass indication of waned fitness but no presence of a training).

Mission: 'Stick' with the woman (Toni). Ensure the device remains in place-

"-in there, Handsome? I'm still nowhere near ready for the rodeo that Peps and Obi will saddle me up for, but I'm a social person, need some interaction, you know? And a drink, I definitely need a drink. Probably shouldn't, but- hey, you want a drink, Handsome?"

Mission: 'Stick' with the woman (Toni). Ensure the device remains in place. Interact with the woman.

Asset Capabilties: assured for 'sticking' to the woman and protection of the device. Capabilities for interaction... insufficient. Adjustment needed. Skill set must expand.

Mission parameters: set.

"Come on, Tall n' Dark, follow the leader; what's mine is mine and mine to share."

The Asset complies.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

Toni's managed to clobber together an easy Italian dish (there's no scars there, for all that Mommy dearest had been Italian, there'd never been any secret family recipes to share, what Toni knows she developed herself) when the J announced a guest.

Handsome, who'd appeared quite lost in the alien environment of the kitchen, transforms. Gone was the quiet, large but comfortably-present man. Now she's looking at the assassin JARVIS had uncovered in top secret files. For the first time since she'd met him, she can see what Rhodey must have from the start, what Happy must have seen when he'd picked them up.

What does it say about her, that such a look, that the posture she sees, makes her perk up and take note?

"Who's at the door, J?" Toni tilts her head back (force of habit, JARVIS answers to his name but it just feels more real, like she's actually addressing him because of course JARVIS would be located above her, watching over her) for a second, a single second. But in the space of that second, Handsome disappears, the only indication of his former presence being the boots she'd forced him to kick off before coming anywhere near her quality rug. Pepper'd kill her is she found mud/blood/oil/murder-juices on there.

"Mr Stane is at the door, Miss."

"Great," Toni matters under her breath, tone as dry as the very desert she has just finished wiping from her body, "just who I wanted to see." Not. Even if he's been tipped off (be it by Rhodey or Happy), couldn't the man just give her a single day to recuperate? One day after months of captivity. Is that so much to ask?

Sucking in whatever courage and steel she can, Toni takes one quick look around the room and makes for the front door. Its useless to pretend she's not looking for Handsome (for James, for a man who may or may not be Bucky Barnes but who unquestionably carries more issues on his shoulders than Toni'd have perceived possible about, oh, six months ago); why has he just... upped and disappeared? Is that it, another person run out of the shitshow she gets to call her life? Oh, it's got it's plus points, that for sure, but excuse her if she's feeling a little down from several torture sessions and far too much time beneath a desert sun. When Obi strides into the hallway, just the sight of his familiar face is almost enough to make her forgive him. Almost.

"Toni! Toni, my girl!" The arms are out, the strides longer, purpose in every move. Even though she can see it's a hug, even though Obi's hugged her before... she still locks up, limbs tight and frozen. It takes her a few seconds to remember she's suppose to return the gesture and by then, we'll it's just awkward. Obi, thank god, does his best to push past, probably writing it off under the headline of 'socially awkward genius'. Just like he's done until he past with all her... eccentricities. And just like always, the second her mouth's open, she's rattling off on one, a mile a minute.

"It's good to see you too, Obi. Great, fabulous, all those other flowery words we can throw out there. I mean, I wanted a few days to get my head on straight, you know, but I suppose the big wheel of business just keeps on turning, waits for no man. But I'm not a man, am I? I'm a woman, I can do what I want- so, was it Happy or Rhodey? You know, the one who ratted me out, the dirty traitor. We're gonna have to have another look at that secrecy contract if there's such glaring loopholes they can slip right through." Running a hand through her hair, Toni grins as softly as she can. But she's always been made of metal, of iron, and now she's all bent out of shape and nothing seems to be fitting right across her features. See, this is why she needed the day off.

Obi blinks, one slow motion before that salesman charm breaks across his face, like the crack of an egg and runny innards slipping out. Ew.

"Okay, Toni, maybe you do need a bit of a break before we tackle the press. But there's no secrets between me and you, are there Toni? We're part of the same team, me and you. Just like how it was with your dad. We do great things together."

Toni's smile strains, tight and uncomfortable on her lips. She takes a step back into her home (the one place she's safe, where JARVIS sees all, where there's no one digging, no one trying to sink their claws into her) and offers a tight nod.

"Yeah, a few days, that's good-great, better than great even."

"So, lets have a talk about what went down out there then." And Obi's blowing past her, heading for the couch as Toni's heart (that poor, battered organ) clenches like a vice. Because- fuck, talk? Talk about Afghanistan? No fucking thanks.

Drumming up her best smile, the one that's always satisfied the papzz but seems to be failing her now (iron forced out of shape, she needs time to smooth it all over, to fix it up again) Toni swings round to face Obi again.

"I'd invite you in, Obi, but Happy only thought to buy enough supplies for two."

"Two," Obi parrots dully, a wry smirk on his lips and that's when Handsome appears from wherever he's been hiding. And he makes himself known. It's cool, the kind of ice cool composure that Toni can only wish she'd be able to copy. The sassy, murderous strut that oozes with self-confidence as Handsome twists one of the short blades from her workshop between his fingers. The left hand is pocketed and with that long-sleeved shirt, you can't tell the difference.

That Obi watches Handsome with such wary eyes... well, Toni supposed she'll have to get used to seeing those kind of expressions. Because until he say he wants to go, she's kinda totally set on keeping this man who's got zero fucks to give. Handsome reclines into his previously claimed chair with all the self assurance of a king and none of the pomp. Like a lion before his pride, a panther before his prey. If only she weren't so traumatised, (if only he weren't so traumatised) she'd be climbing that man like a tree right now. The way he spears a piece of pasta and draws it slowly from the blade conveys all the intentions of a tiger peeling skin from its catch.

"Obi, Handsome, Handsome, Obi. He was just leaving." Handsome doesn't even look to her, instead continuing to stare challengingly at Obi. Daring him to argue.

"Rhodey said you'd picked up a stray, Toni."

"Ah, so it was Rhodey then?"

"How sure are you-"

"She asked you to leave."

Toni hasn't got a clue how he did it, if he'd got JARVIS in on it to dim the lights or what, but Handsome tilts his head just so, until his hair curtains one side and shadows take the other, leaving only two icy blues staring Obi down. It's intimidating as hell and Toni wants lessons, pronto.

"Toni-"

"It's cool, Obi. I trust him. Give me three days, call a press conference as I'll hop back up in the bucking bronco that's the business, all dressed up and ready to impress. I mean, how could I not impress? I'm Toni Stark; not even terrorists and their dark-ass cave can hold me."

She doesn't breath a word of her intentions and, thankfully, Obi doesn't ask.

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

"I want the Asset found!"

There's a roar of unanimous agreement and HYRDA operatives scuttle about in all directions.

Brock Rumlow watches them all go with hard eyes, recalling more of the few missing faces. Two fools who'd been in charge of the search for Toni Stark (because what a boon it'd be to HYDRA if they could get her on side, willing or not) and then the single idiot who'd signed the Asset off to be used as a sniffer dog for the very fools he doesn't see among the crowd.

No doubt they're all dead. The world's better off without their kind of stupidity. HYDRA is better off without their astounding level of stupidity. Using the Winter Soldier as a hunter, to hunt down Toni stark of all people. She's not that important; sure the girl can crack out some impressive tech, but HYDRA techies aren't that far behind her. She's far from indispensable. The Soldier on the other hand-

"This better be good news," Pierce threatens, his voice low and menacing and Brock can tell by the grunt's face it's not. That's why it's this particular fool offering up the bad news; they higher-ups are too aware of the situation to date stick their neck out, never mind doing so to deliver bad news.

"Sir, we've just hear whispers from the military that Toni Stark is back on American soil... she fought her own way out."

Pierce slams his hand against the desk and Brock can relate.

So they've not only lost the Asset, but have sent him on chasing smoke.

While they'll probably have to re-evaluate Stark's profile now, there's no way they'll manage to get close to her. Girl's too high profile a target, the opportunity for that has passed now. She'll be one watch constantly.

"-report from the army that she's already acquired a new bodygua-"

"I don't give a fuck about some spoiled rich princess with half a brain! Pool all resources into securing the Asset. He's too valuable to be lost."

Well, it's probably about damn time he goes and starts his own search now. A search in the desert.

Sometimes, Brock hates his job.

 **.**

* * *

 **Still alive. Absolutely knacked, but alive. All wrote on I-pod, so excuse errors please. Back to planning now, I'm afraid. Sorry this took so long; hope you enjoy it.**

 **Tsume**

 **xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**(Fe)**

.

 **Chapter 3**

.

.

"See, now this'll make it look like a regular old hand from a distance."

Waving the sleeve of artificial skin in the air, Toni throws herself onto the sofa and stares up at Handsome's oh so pretty face.

It's been two days, and all he's really done is observe. Observe and research. As soon as she'd shown him how to command JARIVS' hologram windows and navigate the internet, he'd been off. The very first thing he's done was research her, which, you know, kinda flattering but she's a much better source of information than the good ol' World Wide Web (plus, what kind of rock has he been living under to have never heard of her before?).

Toni'd left some paper and a pen by his side, just to see what'd happen. The result had been numerous scribbles in some bastardised offspring of Romanian and Russian, with a sprinkling of English thrown in. Just looking at it makes Toni's head spin. She files the two languages away into the mental folder she's assigned for Handsome-related information, still utterly fascinated by watching the man himself.

He's reading, completely focused on the text (something about her given the little snapshot of her glorious younger self in the corner) and the top of the pen is in his mouth. Not quite chewing, not quite rolling between teeth... but it takes Toni back to all the wartime footage, to the handful Barnes had featured in (to all the times teenage Toni had watched teeth and tongue play with lips, toying them back and forth; oral fixation: 85% probability). She silently slots another plus point in the 'is he, isn't he' Bucky Barnes debate.

Handsome finishes his sentence, turning to look at her and Toni throws the sleeve his way.

All the more reason to not look too closely at his confused eyes; that pretty face of his is only just now starting to showcase any hints of emotion and it's not right.

Someone has hurt Handsome, really hurt him, and Toni really does not like people touching her stuff (doesn't matter if he wasn't hers until recently. He's hers now and that's the end of it. No one touches her stuff).

"Come on, come on, put it on. A lot of hard work- Well, J worked hard- Well, he sourced it from some Hollywood special effect guys after they'd edited it a bit, but the point is, I- we, JARVIS and me, that is, got that for you so oh can go out and about and that pretty piece of tech won't have half the world staring at you." Because they would be staring. Toni had been half dead, fresh out of a cave and losing her grasp on reality and it'd been the first thing she fixated on.

Handsome's staring at her. Not the same heavy, weighty judgement that she's found is his default, (boy, Obi has not liked that, she'd seen just how damn uncomfortable the man had gotten; she's already had six emails suggesting different, Obi-approved bodyguards. She's deleted all of them) but the kind of curiosity-induced head tilting to a side puzzlement look. You know, if Handsome were capable of such cute expressions of emotion (drop the murder strut, soften the cold eyes and he'd totally be able to pull that off; oh, the anticipation for when that comes along is already singing through her bones).

Ever so slowly, her (house-guest, saviour, dependant) new bodyguard (he'll sign the contract, she's sure, but Toni'll do her damn best to help Handsome sort himself out, get back on his feet, contract or no contract) inspects the full sleeve/glove combo. Then his hands gone for the hem of his shirt.

Now, ever since he arrived and had been directed to a room via JARVIS, she's not seen dear Handsome wear anything but a long sleeve shirt. She's not see the point where prosthetic becomes living tissue and that is the only reason (the _only_ reason) why her eyes don't linger (because six-pack, V-line, rippling pectorals; this gorgeous guy is stacked). Her mouth does dry up just a little though (hey, she's only human... mostly).

"Holy shit, that doesn't look like it was pleasant."

Handsome flinches, so small a movement she barely catches it but Toni cannot blame him in the least.

The motherfucking amount of scar-tissue.

Fucking hell, it's like they dug the metal under his skin and tried to stretch all that flesh back over manually.

Toni doesn't even realise she's approached, that she's lifted one hand to better inspect it all (she's a hands on kinda girl, hello, she's an engineer, science is a hands on kinda thing) until she's a mere two feet away. Toni halts, grimacing, teeth exposed with the expression; it's an ugly look. Not as ugly as what could almost pass as fear (certainly uncertainty, that's for sure) flashing in Handsome's eye.

"Shit, sorry. I shouldn't. I- shit, I'd lose my shit if someone tried prodding at the arc- way to go triggering some good old PTSD Toni, why not go the whole shebang and let Obi have a look at the reactor? Shut the both of you down in a panic attack, at least it'd be an experience you can share," she trails off bitterly when Handsome huffs out a deep breath. It's the only reason she dares dart her eyes up to get a better look at his oh so lovely features.

His eyes are lingering on her chest in a silent question, an unspoken compromise; no, it's not a sleazy request to touch her tits (as magnificent and perky as they may be). She knows it's the scar tissue between them that has his interest, the puckered skin that coils around the reactor. It has Toni's mouth drying up, her heart pounding.

Does she really wanna look at Handsome's prosthetic so bad that she's willing to let him invade her personal space? Even Stevens, fair's fair and all that...

"Twenty seconds."

"Acceptable," Handsome agrees, voice as deep and depressingly dead as before.

In those twenty seconds (thirteen breaths, twenty-nine heartbeats, one instance of touch) her fingers brush ever so gently at the point where damaged skin meets metal. Her pulse spikes when cool metal fingers work against the cicatrix on her own body; it's alien enough from the haunting sensation of hands that still linger, even though Toni's pretty sure she'd been unconscious with the pain of it all.

Still, she takes away a great amount of information in those twenty seconds (loads of sensory input compressed into: metal too heavy, slight lag time, metal runs under the skin, she'll need a full body scan to see the extent) and it all builds up into one fact.

"I'm gonna make you a new arm. A better one. The best damn arm you've ever seen, Handsome."

Because mother of god, does he need it.

.

* * *

.

"Who is that."

Eyes glued to the unknown, Christine Everhart gapes.

He's tall, stacked in a way that can only come from using those muscles, muscles that others toil away hours in a gym just hoping for, and he's following Toni Stark. The guy's shoulders are a tense line, straight as the distant horizon and he seems to be cataloguing everything. Even though his head doesn't turn in the slightest (and she's watching intently enough that she'd notice), Mr. Gorgeous sees all. Those steel blue eyes meet her gaze evenly, challengingly, and not even with the slightest hint of (recognition, interest, lust, desire, caution) consideration passes within them. Whatever he's looking for, he certainly doesn't find it in her. Oh well, there are more guys (richer guys, guys who aren't working security for the Toni Stark) out there.

By god, has he got some kind of 'bad-boy, professional, tinged with danger' aura going for him though. She can still have this single moment to be oh so envious of Stark. Not over the whole kidnapping, held by terrorists thing. The hot bodyguards she seems to have on rotation, however? Now that is something to envy. How many of them has the woman banged? How long will the latest model last? Who knows.

If Christine's luck holds out, a few months. He's decent enough eye-candy. Though what the hell is up with his outfit? It looks like army tactical gear, if the army got an upgrade to sleek black leather in a design that probably costs more than Christine's monthly pay check. At the very least.

She's got the recorder going when Stark starts speaking, analysing the woman's body language as best she can. There's more space between her and Stane than prior to her kidnapping; odd, would she not want familiar comforts? Not that Christine has any kind of training to be analysing things in such a way, but she can take note.

That Stark stands close enough to her new protection detail (whose fingers flex with every click of a camera, who's eyes snap in the direction of every flashing light) speaks volumes. There's a juicy story here, she can sense it.

Unravelling it though? That's a different matter.

"...effective immediately, I'm shutting down weapons production at Stark Industries."

What.

.

* * *

.

The Asset (Handsome. James. Alloy. She has three names for him and not one is 'Asset') snaps to attention at the sudden surge of emotion in the room. It's the only warning, the retreat of the tide before the veritable tsunami of chaos washes over them.

He's beside the woman (Toni. Not the woman, not the mission, Toni, she insists on being addressed as Toni) in the next breath, one hand (flesh hand, true flesh, not covered by a sleeve of synthetic skin) reaching for her elbow. Gentle grip just above the joint (safe manoeuvring, less pressure, less potential for injury, optimal hold) guides her closer.

Situation: undesirable, exit points/ immediate exit through eastern window insufficient (Wom- Toni. Toni's skin susceptible to laceration via shattered shards), secondary exit blocked by masses.

Objective: protect wom-Toni, relocate, tactical retreat to base of operations, the safety of all-knowing 'J'.

Assessment: combat inadvisable ("only when necessary, don't want send the sorry 'S.O.B's' into a panic... 'S.O.B' abbreviation- research/definition required), retreat preferred. Further physical contact: (flinches consequence of unexpected touch, aversion unless projected intent) unwise.

Objective: retreat. Parameters: set.

"Handsome," Wo-Toni hisses, the sound pleadingly sharp.

Eyes cut through crowd to exit. Flash cameras: unacceptable (flash catches on arm; arm no longer reflective; still a handicap?) but unavoidable.

Shield W-Toni.

The Asse- Jame- (WRONGWRONGWRONG) Allo- (incorrect, inaccurate) Handsome (...acceptable) twists; Mission shielded. Long strides, devouring platform distance.

Woma- Toni's arm slips the hold (allowed) until palm meets hand (not optimal, additional second required to adjust for sufficient protection/cover... hold remains unchanged). There's the roar of the crowd. It's ignored. Priority is W-Toni. Toni Stark is priority at present.

Asse- Handsome barges past 'Obi' (oily, slick and greasy and untrustworthy) without so much as a nod; Wo-Toni priority. Elevated rate of breath, pulse increased, face determined and fine features taunt.

Descending the steps, shoulders roll back, proud and strong and braced and ready. They part; a clear understanding the As- Handsome will not stop. A body-check out of his way would be getting off lightly.

Objective: retreat. Goal: North door. Distance: 15 meters. Success rate: 99%.

Acceptable.

... Toni (ToniToniToni) gasps for air as they break through the doors, more cameras (irritating invention) flashing and flaring the moment their operators realise the subject is present. Flyaway hair's frame forehead, big eyes enhanced by application of thick black substance to the lashes, pink pooling back into cheeks with the brush of fresh air. Another breath (short and sharp) escapes her lips (stained a crisp red, perfectly outlined with not a hint of smudge) and her eyes crinkle at the corners. Happiness... the information comes from nowhere, but it fits. Something in the A- Handsome's stomach pools at the though. Assessment: not disadvantageous. Subordinate mission objective, stage one: achieved. Step two, retreat to base.

Big eyes still focused, not looking away.

"Thanks, Handsome. I think I'm ready to go home now." Home = base of operations, location of all-knowing and all-seeing 'J'.

Acceptable.

Fingers twist between fingers; W-Toni's hands are significantly smaller in comparison.

.

"Toni! Oh my god, Toni!"

Female (strawberry blonde hair, slim, no combat experience, heels inadvisable for field work) approaches the W-Toni with an increasingly desperate pace, hands reaching forwards.

Assessment: no concealed weapons (professional clothing too form-fitting, insufficient for quick movement, heels are... tall; require superior balance) intense emotion showcased (face flushed, dark bags beneath pooling eyes; expression genuine) clearly in features and gestures.

A- Handsome allows the contact.

Visual remains on the unnamed, until 'Obi' enters from the front door.

Conclusions: followed in secondary car, accompanied by inferior driver to 'Happy'; duration of A-Handsome and Toni (ToniToniToni)'s journey interrupted by momentary pause for coffee. Critical information: Toni 'fuelled by coffee'- quote from the source, logged for future reference.

Additional note: caramel shot hot chocolate is favourable, creates a warming sensation within the gut. Acceptable state of being.

'Obi' meets his gaze for a mere second, severe frown in place, before he schools his face into a... smarmy grin.

That displeases Handsome (HandsomeHandsomeHandsome; codename: James Alloy. Acceptable identity) and compelled him to step closer just as the unknown releases Toni.

They both turn to him, one startled and the other... warm.

This smile is preferred, superior to the previous smile before the masses of those with cameras.

"Handsome, Pepper. Pepper, Handsome."

"Oh Toni! You can't introduce someone like that, that's not, you just-" The 'Pepper' trails off, startled eyes flicking towards him again, something between desperation and the slightest tingle of fixation (Handsome's seen that look from a few of the 'reporters' today) housed within those still watery eyes.

"Urgh, why force me to talk, Pep? Haven't I done enough talking for one day, I mean, think of all those days you told me to shut up, and here I am, shutting up and now you want me to talk some more, this is mixed signals! I'm pretty sure this is how relationships fall to pieces; it's what those self-help books you kept piling on me said, and-"

"Toni! Just, stop. First, you and I both know you only ever touched those self-help books to frisbee them out the window when you thought I wasn't looking-"

Toni gulps. The sound is loud. Guilty. Handsome's lips twitch at the corners. A smile?

No... a smirk.

Assessment: smirk, acceptable expression. Pleasant, even.

"Second, you cannot just introduce someone based on a nickname! No matter how truthful that may be," the last part is muttered low, riding on a soft breath that Toni does not hear.

But Handsome does.

The smirk widens and the 'Pepper' flushes upon noticing.

"Yeah, well," a thin arm snakes in, curling around the metal bicep and tucks itself up against his ribs; Handsome glances to the small hand that the crook of his elbow has been entrusted to cradle. Nails cut short, practical; Handsome approves. "It's true, isn't it?"

"Toni!"

"Finefinefine! Pep, this is James Alloy, saviour of billionaires lost in deserts, newly hired bodyguard, and all around handsome dude."

The Pepper stared at them both, her mouth slightly open and Handsome returns his gaze to the hand upon his arm. The sleeve of false skin hinders the sensory units; acknowledgment of pressure at acceptable levels, however strange void sensation created by lack of heat from contact is unignorable but can be worked around. The absence of blatant stares makes up for it.

"Toni. We need to talk about what the hell just happened."

"Er, no, we don't. I need to get down to the shop and finish some stuff- it's gonna be big, Obi, bigger than the weapons market, I promise. The shares are gonna dip, but they'll rise again, they always do. How can they not when I'm laying all these golden eggs? You just gotta wait for me to hatch these geese, Obi; crack it open too early and you'll have a decent enough breakfast but then you're gonna go hungry for the week."

...was that code.

Handsome is pleased to see the confusion present upon the Pepper and 'Obi's' face; he is not alone is the incapacity to translate Toni's words. They have accompanied her far longer than Handsome and are equally ignorant.

Handsome shall crack the code; codebreaking is within the skill set.

"Come'on, Handsome. You n' me have a date with some metal panels, wiring gear and the soothing tunes of AC/DC."

A date?

 _Smoke filled halls, seamed-stockings beneath skirt hems, upbeat music thrums through bones and stokes the warm bubble of something behind his sternum._

Date = acceptable activity.

.

* * *

.

"Miss Stark, I have managed to location a DNA sample of one Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, though obtaining such a thing may result in... unwelcome questions."

Rolling across the concrete floor of her workshop, Toni chews at her lower lip's vulnerable flesh as the chair wheels whirl, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion she'll never admit to.

Never admit that the dreams are what keeps her awake, of hands digging deep into her chest, of Yinsen bleeding out from gunshot wounds and she can't do a fucking thing to fix it, of traitors that burrow deep into her life until she's questioning the loyalties of everyone she knows. Someone sold her out. Someone sold her out. Someonesoldheroutsomeonesoldheroutsomeone-

"Toni."

Belatedly she realises JARVIS has been calling her name, but it isn't until hands tap at the edge of her shoulders, until that rarely used but oh-so welcome voice whips through the air, that Toni can crawl out of the almost panic attack she'd dropped into.

"Handsome?"

He's half kneeling, half crouched before her, those (once empty) blue eyes flashing with something that could almost be (concern) emotion. God, he looks good. And god, he's just seen her in the throes of a panic attack. Great. Wonderful. If it weren't for the fact J has informed her that their latest houseguest avoids sleep like Toni once avoided her responsibilities, perhaps she'd feel a little bit embarrassed.

Then again, this guy carried her half delirious through the desert. He's probably listened to the true extent of her madness because Toni knows she rambles. Freshly escaped from that cave and presented with a non-terrorist for the first time in months? She'd probably talked his ear off.

"Breathe," Handsome orders and Toni breathes. Huh. Nice, simple command; it's all good.

He's still watching her and his face is serious, oh so damningly serious and she's having flashbacks to that candid shot of Bucky Barnes with a sniper rifle all locked and loaded. The expression matches, matches perfectly.

Chances of Handsome being Bucky Barnes 85%. She needs some solid information, needs facts and figures and hard data because all this maybe/maybe-not is driving her mad.

"Can we get something on the down-low? Even if it's just the genetic structure; I mean, we don't actually need the physical thing, do we? Like, what is it? A hair caught on the collar of that famous jacket? Speaking of which, Handsome, we need to get you outfitted a bit better. I mean, I know I managed to source this," Toni gives a general wave at the semi formal tactical wear that'd arrived at the crack of dawn, "but that was just the one thing and we could show off those shoulders better. So much better." She pats happily at one of his better features, offering up a grin that tries for radiant but falls more into the wavelength of prosaic than anything else. A mask, a gesture smeared across her face too many times to and now it's worn. Worn and grey and old and Handsome doesn't care.

He's looking at her, that little pucker between his brows a sharp relief against skin that's not seen the sun in oh so very long and if he is truly Bucky Barnes... then he's tried too. It's a face that's worn expressions into the ground and now he's lost track, he's trying to rebuild them but if Toni (Toni's whose an engineer and a creator and the goddamn Merchant of Death who can make and create and destroy and never ever help) can't do it... then what chance does this poor sod have?

"Miss, if given a score of four hours, I should be able to retrieve a digital copy of Sargent Barnes' DNA." JARVIS' voice jars her back into the here and now, away from whirling thoughts of 'what-if's and 'how to fix'es.

"Four hours, J-baby? That's an awfully long time- you didn't install some Hammer tech while I was away, did you?"

"Of course not, Miss. that would be a monumental downgrade." The dry, crisp tone finally drawls up that familiar (comforting, safe) smirk, etched into the steady curve of her mouth.

The rough pad of a thumb running across her lips jolts her right out of it.

Handsome's staring, thumb still resting on the edge of her lip before he draws back, something... something like recognition in his features.

"There was a man... he smirked like that," Handsome (92% Of him being Bucky-Bear) murmurs.

Of fucking course he recognises Howard in her, Toni thinks as her stomach sinks deeper and deeper into her body, until it feels as if it's got nowhere else to go but impossibly still keeps dropping. God, god she needs to, to stop this conversation- no, she needs to hear this because it's more evidence but it's so hard, why is it always Howard haunting her, dogging her every step, the same confidence-shattering sensation at the very thought of him, as if he'd never left, as if-

"Weren't as pretty as you, though."

That draws a surprised bark right out of Toni's chest, a sound she'd thought dug out along with some ribs and lungs.

The surprise she feels is echoed clearly on (94% Barnes) Handsome's face, a subtle startlement that spreads across his fine face but compared to the dead-no-emotion mask is oh so clear.

"Aw, you always know the right thing to say, Sweet Cheeks," Toni coos, reaching out to pinch on of those artisan-crafted cheeks. And Handsome (Handsome, the so called 'Winter Solider', Mc'assassin-O'killbot) fucking flinches.

Just as a young Annie had once done when a kind butler had attempted to pat her atop the head for a job well done.

(Too used to sharp slaps, to sharper words and bitter disappointment to know a good thing when it finally showed itself)

That's just... that's just so outside of the realms of unacceptable and Toni's stomach is long gone, descended through the floor kind of gone.

"J? How quick can you get that data?"

"I would be capable of retrieval in twenty-four minutes and six seconds, Miss, but that would leave a noticeable trace of activity."

Well shit. If this truly is Barnes, if someone has been keeping him against his will (no memories, flinching from potential contact, the whole shell of a personality thing he's got going on) then they really can't afford the risk of leaving a trail.

Just the thought of someone ever being able to drag her back to the desert has Toni's throat closing up, her chest burning for oxygen as water laps at her face and hands tangle in her hair and-

"Undetected, J, utterly untraceable." Can't risk it; Toni can't risk whatever monstrosity is lurking beneath the waves on this.

"And show me what's in fashion for menswear right now."

.

Clothing arrives an hour after the order is put in; that kinda stuff happens when you've got more money than Erebor has golden trinkets. Handsome's in the middle of trying on a soft charcoal jumper that does amazing things for his shoulders and hugs those pecks (and Toni's really trying not to stare too much when he changes but he's so attractive and yet that scar tissue has her stomach churning worse than water meeting potassium) when JARVIS throws up a screen with all the information she needs. Sargent James Buchanan Barnes' DNA.

Toni's fingers twitch, her eyes forcibly drawn from broad shoulders and hard abs, exchanged for biological coding and genetic markers.

This is the code that makes up dimple chins, naughty smirks and bedroom eyes.

This is the code that potentially makes soft brown waves, strong jaws and long fingers. Coding that someone (metal arm, scar tissue, a dried up well of emotion) has cut short. (God, isn't it fucking sick that she doesn't know if the metal arm was a necessary replacement or a significantly more sinister addition?). Coding someone has tarnished, coding someone has transcribed by they've cut and snipped and lost sections. This is how faults in DNA occur, ribosomes ruining perfectly good coding until, until-

But Toni... Toni creates. She creates and she fixes and she improves and she progresses. It's in her nature, is settled at the very core of her being behind those metal walls ('Stark men are made of iron' and as a Stark woman, Toni shall be even greater, a stronger metal; a more flexible one). That arm, whatever the reason behind its presence, is inferior to anything she could create. And she owes Handsome.

If this DNA matches, then Handsome is also owed a hell of a lot of backpay and the therapy sessions to go with that.

Urgh, even in her head that sounds like a bad idea. A 'not throwing the ring in the mountain, leaving the big-bad to burn up in lava' kind of bad idea. It's inviting the world to bite them in the ass. No thanks, Toni is so not into that unless she's got some safe-words memorised; somehow, she gets the feeling the world won't respect her cry of 'Oklahoma'.

Grimacing, Toni turns her attention back to Handsome just as he finishes smoothing down a royal blue sweater. It's Bucky Blue and if this really does match up (96%) then Toni can totally see that colour flying off the racks as everyone scrambled to get in on Patriotism 2.0. Even worse if Handsome here starts modelling it. Not that that will be a problem for a while, because her houseguest is far from camera friendly. One might even go so far as to call him camera shy. Funny, given the company he know keeps.

"Hey, Handsome, you wanna find out who you are?"

Perching her ass on the edge of her workbench (she's working on getting it back up to standards, she's spent far too much time in that damn cave and it's ruined her perfectly shaped body; her ass is so not getting the rear of the year award again. Not this year, anyway. Not enough time to work it back up into shape. Never mind, she'll go hard for that next year, in the meantime) Toni begins contemplating how to best deal with those puckered eyebrows. Yes to the puppy dog, melt me in the middle blue eyes. No to the confusion in them.

"Well, not actually find out who you are, more like take a stab in the dark, I mean, this will be able to tell if you are, or it will tell us if we just need to keep looking. Hell, you might just be a relation for all I know, but with this will be one step closer to figuring out. So wha'd'ya say, Handsome?" Brows a'wriggling atop her head, Toni slaps the best charming smile in her arsenal onto her lips once she's done with her speech. If this really is Bucky Barnes, then Toni need to form a plan of action. A serious plan of action.

"How."

"H-how?" Toni repeats in a stumble, trying not to make it seem like she's startled by the words. She hadn't expected Handsome to be so on board with it right away, and while he's not exactly leading the charge, he is taking tentative step forward. Fucking hell, Toni's pretty sure she wouldn't be able to do it in his shoes. Then again, Toni's not a soldier. Because that's what this is, a soldier's mentality, exhibited bold and bright against her nature. Her well documented, hendoistic lifestyle; it just clashes against those traits. Then again, the thought of going to a party, of being pressed up against body's she doesn't know, of people she cannot trust being so close, of hands reaching up into her hair-

Toni sucks in a harsh breath, forcibly grounding herself in reality once again. Not acceptable, not acceptable in the slightest. God, she needs to find a way to make that, that falling off the rails at the slightest runaway train of thought stop. She's been lucky so far, but if that strikes when she's working on the new suit, or when she finally gets her hands into Handsome's arm... she could seriously hurt someone. Herself included. Conclusion reached from those thoughts, however, is that she's going to have to make a few new lifestyle choices. Different ones, better ones. Ones that mean she won't be stumbling around drunk as a skunk with no one she knows anymore.

Pepper's gonna be so proud.

"Well, I'll take a sample of your DNA, break it down and see if it matches suspect number one. If not, we keep looking. That's all there is to it." It's a good thing she's had to dig out the old biology to keep checking on her dicky-ticker, it's sure as hell going to come in useful now.

"... do it." It's a low whisper but the kind that echoes, that reaches the furthest corner of a soul that Toni'd been pretty sure was immune to heartbreak. Because that's the kinda emotion rasping Handsome's voice right now, brought out by this small memory he's had surface in his brain (what'd'ya know, dear old Dad was good for something after all) and he's trying to grasp it with two hands.

Handsome's in his own Afgan cave right now, a cave some bastards have shoved him into and Toni finds Yinsen's shoes to be pinchy and awkward; she doesn't fit this role very well at all. Not in the slightest. But she's the only one who can help him work his way out, the only one who can lay the groundwork for Handsome to fight back, to help himself.

So of course- "we'll do it."

.

* * *

 **Once again, i-pod work, excuse mistakes. (There's a 1,000 of you following this; wow. Thank you!)**

 **Tsume**

 **xxx**


End file.
